


The Language of Flowers

by magisterpavus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Awkward Flirting, Coming Out, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Sappy Ending, Trans Keith (Voltron), they just deserve happiness ok that's literally all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21796555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: Keith may be the newest artist at Galra Ink, but he knows a blank canvas when he sees one.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 431





	The Language of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally for "bloom: a trans sheith zine," and I'm so grateful to be part of this project and share it with you all at last! I'm a sucker for cheesy AUs so this was a lot of fun to write :') 
> 
> follow me on twitter [@saltyshiro](https://twitter.com/saltyshiro) for more sheith~

Keith may be the newest artist at Galra Ink, but he knows a blank canvas when he sees one. 

The man is sitting in the far corner, bouncing his leg and glancing around with wide eyes, keeping his head bowed so that his silver forelock falls into his eyes. All of his hair is silver – dyed, Keith bets, because his face is young, and despite the way he attempts to hunch over as if to take up the smallest amount of space possible, he’s a big guy with solid lines of muscle obvious under his white v-neck. When he turns a little, Keith notices something else interesting – his right arm and hand looks prosthetic, some kind of dark metal. It must be really advanced, because each finger seems able to move independently...

Acxa elbows him. “That’s your 2 p.m. consultation,” she mutters. “Takashi Shirogane.”

Keith purses his lips as she passes him the tablet, scrolling through the guy’s info. “First-timer, huh? I knew it.” He’s also twenty-six – even younger than Keith expected. 

“Shh,” Acxa hisses as he looks up, brow furrowed. She leans in closer to Keith. “He works across the street – Altea Florals, with Allura. He’s been there at least as long as I’ve been here...sweet guy. He used to hand-deliver our displays and bake cookies for all the nearby shops on Fridays.”

Keith whistles softly. “Wait...used to? What happened?”

She shrugs. “Who knows. He wasn’t there for awhile, then came back with the silver hair and missing arm, and kept to himself more ever since.”

“A mystery man,” Keith muses, then blanches, because the guy is standing right in front of him. “Uh. Hi. You’re my 2 p.m. I’m Keith. Takashi, right?”

He blushes, and scratches the back of his neck with his metal hand. “I usually just go by Shiro, sorry, didn’t think to put that on there…”

_Cute,_ Keith thinks, before mentally smacking himself. _No thirsting on the job allowed._ Keith smiles at him and comes out from behind the desk, gesturing for Shiro to follow him to the back. “It’s all good. So, what are we thinking today?” Keith peers at the notes on the tablet. “Oh! You like my flowers, huh?”

He _is_ cute, though. Up close, his young face is also a very handsome one, despite the slash of a faint pink scar over his nose bridge. Keith likes the scar, thinks it adds a certain charm, but he can’t help wondering what caused it…related to the arm, or not?

_Focus, Keith._

“Your flowers were definitely what caught my eye.” Shiro beams at him, looking nervously away from a buzzing tattoo gun – Ezor is working on a big piece, and they’re a bleeder. Keith wisely steers Shiro in the other direction, glad that his workspace is far away from hers. “I was trying to figure out which artist to work with, but then, I saw that recent piece you did – that beautiful little red rose – and I knew you were the right artist for me.”

Keith leads him into his workspace and closes the privacy curtain, since Shiro seems more at ease in a one on one setting. “Okay, so, guessing you want a flower,” Keith chuckles, plopping down on his stool and grabbing a pencil and paper. “I can definitely do flowers. You thinking a rose, or…?”

“I…” Shiro hesitates. “Yeah, a rose, I think,” he mumbles, wringing his hands. 

“We don’t have to do a rose,” Keith adds quickly, “just throwing it out there.” He pauses. “Hey, my coworker said you’re a florist, right? Over at Altea?”

Shiro blinks in surprise, and nods. “Yes, that’s right. I don’t think I’ve seen you there before?”

“I’m new here,” Keith says, and adds, “but, uh, not new at tattoos.”

“I believe you,” Shiro assures. “Nobody gets as good as you without years of practice – and a lot of love for what they do.”

Keith’s ears grow hot. “Well,” he says. “Thank you. I do...really love it. Putting art on people, I mean. Especially art that means something to them. So – a flower for a florist’s first tattoo. Is there a story there? Maybe that will help with figuring out the type of flower, if you’re not sure.”

“I want a rainbow flower,” Shiro blurts. 

“Rainbow, huh? I like it. Couldn’t decide on just one color, or…?”

“I’m gay?” Shiro interrupts. Keith stares at him. “I’m gay. Yes. Yeah. So I want a rainbow flower. Probably a rose. Can we do that?”

Keith leans back against his desk. “Of course,” he says, brain struggling to catch up with his mouth. “We can totally do that. Where do you want it?”

“Maybe...over my heart? Ish?” Shiro winces, shrugging helplessly. “Is that too cheesy?”

“It’s your tattoo,” Keith tells him. “It’s your choice. Do you think it’s too cheesy, or would it mean a lot to you if you got it there?”

Shiro looks up at him with soft gray eyes, slowly relaxing. “It would mean a lot to me,” he whispers. 

“Then let’s do it,” Keith declares, realizing too late that means he will have to be face to face with Hot Florist’s pecs for at least an hour. He grimly accepts his fate and clears his throat. “What about the flower design itself? Any thoughts on that?”

“I’m open to any design you think would work,” Shiro admits. “Like I said, I really liked the most recent rose you did, but if you want to try something new, I’m game.”

Keith gives him a thumbs up. “Works for me. Hmm...I’ll just give you my contact info, okay? Feel free to send me pics or descriptions if any come to mind, and I can send sketches your way.”

“That would be great,” Shiro says. “Thank you. And, please, take your time – I won’t be able to make the actual appointment for at least a month, I hope that’s okay…”

“Oh, yeah, don’t sweat it.” Keith raises an eyebrow. “Just busy, or traveling…?”

“Traveling,” Shiro sighs, “to my grandparents, in Japan. I go to see the cherry blossoms with them every year, it’s kind of...a thing.” He offers Keith a weak smile.

“What about a rainbow cherry blossom, then?” Keith suggests.

Shiro cringes, and shakes his head. “No. Thanks, but...I think I’ll stick with the rose.”

Keith nods. “Can’t go wrong with roses. It was good to meet you, Shiro – I’ll be in touch.” He presses a piece of paper into Shiro’s hand, along with his business card. Shiro holds up the paper in question. “That’s my personal phone,” Keith says, and is unprepared for Shiro’s almost comically red face. “Because I check it way more often,” Keith adds quickly. “More convenient. For sketches. And stuff.”

“And stuff,” Shiro echoes, and if Keith’s not mistaken, there’s a little smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks again, Keith.”

Keith absolutely does not look at his ass when he walks Shiro out. That would be so unprofessional.

“I saw that,” Acxa says after Shiro’s out the door. “You gave him your number!”

“For work,” Keith says primly, sweeping the floor and fixing her with a glare. “What? It’s not illegal.”

“True, but fucking on the client chairs is,” Acxa retorts, and Keith swats at her with the broom. “I’m just saying, it happened.”

“That was Lance, not me,” Keith protests. “I’m offended that you don’t think I’m classier than him.”

“I’m sure _Mr. Florist_ could be _classy_ for you,” Acxa says under her breath, and gets a faceful of tattoo parlor floor dust in reply.

*

Keith manages to play it cool for a whole two days before he gives in and texts Shiro.

_keith: hey shiro! it’s keith from galra ink._

When he checks his phone again on his lunch break, Shiro replies as he’s unlocking it. 

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Hi Keith :) Good to hear from you. I haven’t had much time to research designs, sorry!_

Keith smiles down at his phone, then shoves his sandwich in his mouth before Acxa suspects anything. 

_keith: no worries. your appointment is four weeks from now – we got time._

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: You’re right, I’m just anxious, haha_

_keith: everybody’s nervous about their first tattoo, but i promise it’s not too bad_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: I’ll take your word for it :)_

Keith chews his lip. Should he do this? No. Is he going to? Yes.

_keith: how are the flowers today?_

The thirty seconds Shiro spends typing are nerve wracking, but as soon as his reply pops up, Keith slides down in his chair in relief.

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: The flowers are great! We got a bunch of Skagit Valley tulips this morning and they smell amazing._

_keith: what do tulips smell like?_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Hmm...some of them smell like honey, the rest are kinda ~spicy~_

Keith snorts. What a nerd.

Hunk, who works at the bakery next door, catches his eye across the room where he’s dropping off Zethrid’s daily order of cinnamon buns. “What’s up, Keith? You’re looking suspiciously chipper.”

Keith frowns at him. “Why is that suspicious?”

Hunk gives him a look. 

“Okay, fine,” Keith sighs. “But it’s nothing, just a client being...silly.”

“A client, huh?” Hunk clicks his tongue. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“Don’t you compare me to Lance, too,” Keith warns.

“I would never,” Hunk says, and winks. “I’m just happy you’re happy. Here. Have a croissant.”

Keith takes it as the peace offering it is and types out his reply, hiding his smile in buttery, flaky pastry goodness. 

_keith: didn’t know flowers could smell spicy_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Sure can. Flowers have all different kinds of smells. Some are really weird_

_keith: oh yeah? hit me_

He’s unprepared for Shiro to send him a picture of a gigantic flower, if that’s even the right word for it. It’s dark red dotted with white, with a huge orange center, and it looks like it belongs on Mars.

_keith: holy shit??? is that REAL? wtf_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Yes...it’s called a Rafflesia and it smells like rotting flesh_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: ...not that I would know :|_

_keith: you telling me you don’t sell those alien monsters at altea? damn :/_

_keith: wait hold up it smells like...WHY_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: They’re pollinated by carrion flies, so, gotta smell nasty_

_keith: wow. the more you know._

_Rainbow Shiro: Sorry, I hope you’re not eating._

Keith swallows the rest of the croissant and wrinkles his nose.

_keith: nope, you’re good_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Whew._

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: I gotta ask – what’s your fav flower?_

_keith: definitely not the corpse one_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Ha, ha_

_keith: idk. never been much of a flower guy, i guess_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Aw. I get it, tho...most guys in here are just looking for lazy bf bouquets_

_keith: please define ‘lazy bf bouquet’_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Oh boy_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Lazy BF Bouquet (noun) – when a bf forgets to get his gf a gift until the last minute & decides flowers will work, but isn’t willing to pay for a fancy bouquet, so gets her smth super basic which she will probably thank him for bc she’s a good gf but her heart won’t be in it & it may even lead to the beginning of the end _

_keith: OOF. lot of those, huh?_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Way too many. Don’t tell me you’ve never been that guy?_

Keith peeks over the counter. Acxa is distracted by the cinnamon rolls, along with Ezor, Zethrid, and Narti. He exhales and replies,

_keith: nah. i’m a good bf. if i got my bf a bouquet, it would be a nice one_

Shiro is typing for a long time. Then,

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: If you ever need one, you should come by. I’ll help you pick out the best for him_

_keith: oh sorry lol i don’t have a bf now, i meant, hypothetically_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Oh got it_

Keith squints at his phone. Shiro’s reply was lightning-fast that time. What does that _mean?_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: You could still come by sometime, tho. If you want. Maybe I can help you figure out what your fav flower is?_

Keith covers his mouth. This...definitely feels like flirting. He swallows. 

_keith: i may take you up on that_

_Rainbow Rose Shiro: Sweet :) I’m in all day Friday_

Keith sends him a thumbs up emoji, and they don’t talk for the rest of the day.

Or the day after that – in fact, it’s only on Friday that Shiro sends him a text, and this time, he has pictures. Keith scrolls through them, picking out Shiro’s favorites and his own, and gets to work on some solid sketches. He doesn’t text them to Shiro, though – he brings them across the street.

Altea Florals is a quaint building, red brick on the outside, white tile floor on the inside. Keith can’t tell what color the walls are, they’re so covered in flowers and various foliage. A little bell chimes as he opens the door, and immediately Shiro’s voice replies, “Hello! Welcome to Altea Florals, is there anything I can...do...for you…” Shiro trails off, peeking around a giant bouquet of roses at Keith. “Oh. You actually –” He coughs, and sets down the bouquet, giving Keith a shy smile. “You didn’t have to come, but I’m glad you did.”

Keith shrugs, pretending that Shiro isn’t the most stunning man he’s ever seen. He’s even more beautiful surrounded by the flowers in the late afternoon light, golden sunshine spilling over the vibrant petals and casting Shiro’s smiling face in a warm glow.

“I have some sketches for you,” Keith replies, handing them over and shuffling his feet uncertainly. “Thought it might be easier to chat about them in person, but if you’re busy…”

Shiro gestures around to the quiet shop. “No, no worries – I was just about to close up, anyway, we usually close early on Fridays. In fact...why don’t I do that, and if it’s okay with you, I could make some coffee upstairs and we could chat there?”

Keith’s eyebrows lift. “Upstairs?”

“There’s an apartment upstairs,” Shiro explains. “I’m renting it out from Allura.”

Keith must be silent for too long, because Shiro hastily adds, “If you’re not comfortable with that, totally fine, I just thought maybe…”

Keith shakes his head, heart pounding. “I’m comfortable with it. I mean...I gave you my personal number for a reason.”

Shiro pauses then, his flustered demeanor fading to something cooler, more composed and thoughtful. His gray eyes narrow, lips quirking. “Because it’s more convenient, right?”

“Something like that.” Keith takes a step closer. “So. Coffee?”

Shiro’s gaze rakes up and down his body, and Keith inwardly preens. “Uh-huh. Gimme a second. Feel free to look around in the meantime, see if you can find that elusive favorite flower.”

“I’ll let you know if I do,” Keith says, and starts making the rounds as Shiro goes about tidying and locking up. Studying some trailing ivy, Keith wonders if he’s misreading this. It’s been so long since he dated, and he hasn’t dated at all since he transitioned. It’s just been...different, since then. He tried dating apps, but ultimately hasn’t had much success with them. He’s so busy with work that it’s difficult to find time to get out, much less find the love of his life.

Not that _Shiro_ is gonna be the love of his life. He’s a hot florist, who is also a client, who may or may not be inviting Keith upstairs to fuck above his flowershop. That’s a far cry from romance. Still...there’s something about him that draws Keith in. A kindred spirit, maybe. He’s got stories he doesn’t want to tell the world, and Keith knows what that feels like. 

His rambling thoughts stop short before a vase filled with sunflowers. Keith thinks it’s the scent of them that brings him so abruptly to another place, another time...or maybe it’s their color, golden yellow and emerald green, that reminds him of a little yard with a big mesquite tree and a creaking swing, his shrieks of joy echoing through the desert as his father pushes him, back and forth, back and forth, higher and higher, until Keith smells smoke.

Keith jolts out of it when Shiro says, “Sunflowers, huh? You have good taste.”

Keith swallows, running his fingertips over the fuzzy stems. “There were sunflowers at my house in Arizona, as a kid,” he murmurs. He doesn’t know why he’s saying it – he doesn’t think he’s ever told anyone else. “Bigger than these. My dad always said they were soaking up the desert sunshine, that’s why they got so yellow.”

Shiro laughs. “Your dad sounds like more of a flowers guy than you.”

Keith looks away from them. “I guess. He was a big fan of wildflowers. He used to take me out after summer monsoons to see them all.”

“Were they beautiful?” Shiro asks, voice soft.

Keith nods, a lump in his throat. “He always picked a few for me. He was a good dad.” Keith drifts away from the sunflowers. “What are your favorite flowers?”

Shiro is quiet for a while, and Keith wonders if he scared him off with the implied dead dad comment. But then Shiro says, “They used to be cherry blossoms.”

Keith turns around and looks at him. “Used to be?”

“Mhm. When I was a kid, and they didn’t have bad memories attached to them.” Shiro hesitates. “I know you didn’t come here for a pity party, but, well, I’m not really out to the world as gay, and that’s mostly because of my grandparents. I don’t know if I could ever tell them.”

Keith exhales. “Who have you told?”

“Not many people,” Shiro sighs. “My parents knew. But they’re not around, anymore. Allura knows. My ex-boyfriends knew, obviously. But it’s hard, I guess. Going to see the cherry blossoms with them used to be the highlight of my year. Now it just hurts, to visit them and feel like I’m lying the whole time.”

“You’re not lying,” Keith retorts. “It’s not a lie to be afraid of showing your identity to the world. That’s a scary thing, Shiro, and nobody should rush you on that.” Shiro looks up, hesitant. Keith takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I ever would’ve come out if it weren’t for my mom. After my dad passed, it was just her and me. I was terrified she would hate me, kick me out or something...but she never did that. She loved me, and she hasn’t stopped.”

Shiro smiles. “I’m glad, Keith.” He pauses, and Keith braces himself. “Just to clarify, did you come out as gay to her, or…?”

“That was one of ‘em,” Keith mutters, “bi, if we’re gonna get technical. But the big one was coming out as trans, and that was an accident. She, uh, she found my binders in the mail.”

Shiro’s eyes widen. “Oh, _wow,”_ he says. Keith winces, tensely trying to decipher his tone. Then, “Well, er, at least it wasn’t a packer or something?”

Keith lets out a startled honk of laughter, and Shiro blinks in surprise before laughing too, awkwardness quickly smoothing over. “God, that would’ve been so bad,” Keith wheezes. “She would’ve been so blunt about it, too, like _‘Honey, why is there a dick in this box?’”_

Shiro cackles at him. “Your mom sounds great. And I’m glad she accepts you, Keith. Really. Everyone should have that from someone they love.” His smile fades.

“You should have that, too,” Keith reminds him gently. “You know that, don’t you? That’s why you’re getting this tattoo.”

Shiro bites his lip. “Maybe. Yeah.” He chuckles, strained. “I’m sorry. I was going to help you find your favorite flower and make coffee, and instead –”

Keith puts a finger over his lips and Shiro goes cross-eyed. “Don’t apologize. There’s still time for that. Sometimes you gotta talk about this stuff, believe me, I get it.”

Shiro huffs. “Not sure you’re supposed to talk about it with your tattoo artist, though.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “You might be surprised. People say some crazy shit when they’re in pain.” Shiro blanches and Keith adds, “Not that it hurts a lot. It doesn’t, you’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Thanks, Keith.” Shiro gives him a sidelong glance. “So, just checking – pronouns?”

“He, him,” Keith replies automatically, then amends, “sometimes they, them. But you can’t go wrong with he/him.”

“Good to know,” Shiro says easily, and Keith likes him all the more for it. “And, for the record, I don’t just see you as my tattoo artist.”

Keith turns to face him fully, leaning back against the display table. “No? What do you see me as?”

“Beautiful,” Shiro admits, and Keith turns as red as the poppies behind the florist. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” Keith whispers. “So are you. Beautiful, I mean. Uh...”

“Cat got your tongue?” Shiro teases, slowly moving into his space, eyes never leaving Keith’s face. He leans in, but Keith stops him with a steadying hand to the chest. Shiro freezes, panic slipping onto his face.

“Coffee,” Keith reminds him. “And some of us are still on the clock.”

“Oh, shit,” Shiro gasps, “I am so sorry, I totally forgot…”

“You have my number,” Keith reminds him, ducking away and towards the door with a lazy salute. “Tell me what you think about the sketches. I get off work at six.”

“I’ll be upstairs,” Shiro replies, eyes bright. “See you later, Keith.”

*

“You took your sweet time at Altea,” Acxa says as a greeting.

Keith doesn’t even deny it. He’s running on giddy adrenaline. “Sure did.”

*

Shiro does, in fact, see him later. He opens the flowershop door to an exhausted, caffeine deprived, viciously horny Keith who snatches the coffee mug Shiro offers him up, takes a sip, and then slumps back in Shiro’s plush loveseat to groan, “Holy fuck, I could kiss you, this is so damn good.”

Shiro eyes him. “Could? Is that a hypothetical?”

“Please stop talking,” Keith gasps, and barely remembers to set down his mug before launching himself at Shiro and proving it is very much not a hypothetical. Shiro’s mouth is hot and soft and tastes like coffee. His hair is soft, too, when Keith sinks his hands into it, struggling to find a grip. In the end, he gives up and settles with heavy petting.

“Hard day at work?” Shiro manages when Keith pulls away. His face is flushed and shocked, but he isn’t pushing Keith off of him. 

“Fridays always suck,” Keith says conversationally, as if to ignore the fact that he’s in the lap of a near-stranger. “Stupid people decide to get stupid tattoos on Fridays – but you didn’t hear it from me. That would be unprofessional.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Shiro laughs, but Keith frowns at him, and climbs off his lap.

“I don’t do this,” Keith says, gesturing between them, “just so you know. But you’re...hmph. I like you. Is that weird?”

“A little,” Shiro admits, “but I like you, too.” Easy as anything, he reaches out and brushes Keith’s hair back, away from his face. “A lot.”

“I don’t think I want a one-night stand, friends with benefits type thing,” Keith adds, preparing for an awkward silence and a hasty exit.

Instead, Shiro nods. “I don’t want that either,” he agrees. “Not with you.”

“Oh,” Keith breathes, delighted. “Cool.”

“I do wanna keep kissing you, though,” Shiro says slyly.

Keith kisses him hard in reply. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed someone properly, and he’s all too eager to crawl back into Shiro’s lap, heat igniting over his skin wherever Shiro touches him. Shiro’s warm palms slide over his arms, and he breaks the kiss to murmur, “Fuck, I love all of these.”

“My tattoos?” Keith moves into his touch, breathless. 

Shiro hums affirmatively. “As beautiful as your sketches,” he murmurs. “Your lines are so bold, sharp and striking, just like you...never thought someone could make flowers look so badass, but you do.”

“Thanks...ahh…” Keith’s lashes flutter, warmth pooling in his belly when Shiro shifts over him, a tease of pressure between his thighs.

Shiro kisses his neck slow and wickedly hot. “They look good on you,” he coos, and Keith doesn’t know if he’s talking about his ink or the bruises Shiro must be leaving down his throat. “Tell me what they mean sometime?”

Keith melts back against the loveseat as Shiro presses down against him, kisses sneaking below his shirt collar. “Only if you tell me your favorite flower,” Keith gasps, sliding a hand up Shiro’s shirt in retribution. He isn’t disappointed — he’s met with hard, rippling muscle and coarse hair trailing down. 

Keith whines and Shiro bites down. “Snapdragons,” he says. 

Keith leans back. “Really?”

Shiro gives him a crooked smile. “Yeah. They’re fun.” He nips at Keith’s ear. “Snap, snap.”

Keith snorts helplessly, nuzzling into Shiro’s shoulder. “You’re a dork.”

“I...really am, yeah.” Shiro pauses, expression almost apologetic. 

Keith blinks at him, apprehensive. “What?”

“Maybe it’s weird,” Shiro mumbles, “but we’ve established this is all weird, right? And I figured, since you’re giving me that tattoo, I wanted to give you something, too. Something that will hopefully mean even half as much as that tattoo will mean to me.”

Keith watches in confusion as Shiro moves off the couch and goes back into the kitchen. “Close your eyes,” he calls.

“Are you gonna come back with a knife?” Keith asks, closing his eyes even as he says it. 

“No!” Shiro exclaims. There’s a loud rustling, and his footsteps return to the couch. “No knife, I promise. Okay, you can open them now.”

Keith opens his eyes. It takes his brain a few moments to process what it’s seeing. Shiro is holding a bouquet, a gorgeous arrangement of white, pink, and blue flowers...all near-exact matches to the colors of the trans flag. “Shiro,” he whispers, taking the bouquet with shaky hands.

“It’s almost Pride Month, so I figured, even if you don’t want to be my boyfriend, you might still want the bouquet…” Shiro clears his throat. “Either way, I just wanted you to know how much it means to me that you’re doing this tattoo for me, and not only that, you’re...well, you. And I know we’re still getting to know each other, but from what I’ve seen so far...who you are is beautiful, Keith, inside and out.”

Keith can’t look away from the flowers. “Thank you,” he whispers. It’s all he can say. “Wait — your boyfriend? You…”

“I was hoping this would be the opposite of a lazy boyfriend bouquet,” Shiro admits sheepishly. “And maybe you can find a favorite flower out of these. I tried to put as many different kinds as possible in it.”

Keith touches each flower one by one. “What’s this one?” he asks for every bloom.

“Blue daisies, periwinkle, lisianthus, camellias, hydrangeas, forget-me-nots, and…”

“Snapdragons,” Keith finishes, gently squeezing the little pink flower until it opens. “Snap, snap. Hm. I see why you like them.” He glances up at Shiro and frowns. “But you forgot one.”

Shiro’s eyes widen. “I did?”

Keith nods with as much seriousness as he can muster. “I’m sorry, Shiro,” he sighs, “but I just can’t be your boyfriend without a giant flower that smells like rotting flesh.”

Shiro’s mouth twitches, face softening in relief. “That one’s the dealbreaker, huh?”

“Uh-huh. Luckily for you, I’ve decided to make an exception. Give me a really good tip on that tattoo, then we’ll talk.” Keith winks at him. He has no idea where this teasing flirting is coming from, but he has no complaints. It’s been a long time since he had this much fun just _being_ with someone else.

Shiro lets out a squawk of outrage and presses him down against the couch, careful not to squish the bouquet. “You are such a brat,” he laughs. 

“Or you could just kiss me again,” Keith offers. 

Shiro kisses him soundly, stroking Keith’s hair, his bruised throat, his inked arms, with the same gentle reverence he gives to his flowers. Keith lets himself be held, the scent of the bouquet sweet and hazy all around them, and smiles into the kiss. 

He’s a long way from that kid on the creaking swing and the swaying sunflowers under the desert sun. But although he might have a new name, new tattoos, and a new sense of confidence and understanding in who he is, he and that kid have always wanted the same thing — to be loved, and to have a happy ending.

With Shiro, Keith thinks, the possibility of finding both feels closer than ever.


End file.
